


welcome to hell may i take your order

by kalesmay



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Green Lantern (Comics), Superman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, M/M, more tags will be added as we go on, the bats work at mcdonalds, theres uhhhh lot happening, this verse is still a baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-04 01:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10980711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalesmay/pseuds/kalesmay
Summary: the corporate propaganda that you never asked for





	1. its a challenging life

**Author's Note:**

> **mcdonalds:** bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd  
>  **circle k:** roy harper  
>  **whole foods:** tiger king of kandahar  
> 

“Welcome to McDonald’s, may I take your order?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll have a ~~\--~~ ”

“We’re out.”

“I haven’t even said what I’m ordering!”

“We’re out of it.”

 

A stern but exhausted voice came from the kitchen. “Jason, just take the order.”

Jason sighed. “What do you want.”

“Two twelve piece nuggets and a small iced tea?”

“How can you possibly eat that much, you don’t have friends.”

“Hey!”

 

The voice made a reappearance. “Jason, don’t insult the customers.”

It was more of a groan this time.

 

“Two twelve piece McNuggets and a small iced tea. Your total comes out to $11.07.” The ginger placed a Ziploc bag filled with quarters onto the counter.

 

* * *

 

 

“Sir, the McDonald’s PlayPlace is for ages twelve and under. Please leave the enclosure.”

“Yeah, yeah, just a sec."

Jason’s patience was wearing thin.

“Kyle, get the fuck outta the playground you dumbass.” He continued painting.

“People are gonna think you’re a creeper.”

 

Kyle set down his pallet and looked at Jason. “I’m sorry, Jay, but this is the only place I can get inspiration.”

“Your apartment is gonna be a red dot on the child predator’s alert.”

“Don’t say shit like that man, you’re gonna jinx it!”

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey ~~\--~~ ”

“Roy Harper, if you ask for my number with a side of fries one more time, I’m gonna shove your head in the goddamn deep fryer.”

 

There was a pause.

 

“Can I get a number five with a large coke and a side of your number?”

 

Death walked amongst the patrons in McDonald’s that night.

 

* * *

 

“Jason, unlock the door to the play area.”

_His eyes were daggers, and he was hell bent on destruction._

 

“Why would I do that?”

_He cracked his knuckles and glared into your soul._

 

“Your brother wants out.”

 

Damian ran a finger across his throat and pointed at Jason.

“Yeah, sorry Pops, can’t do that. I don’t feel like dying tonight.”

 

A muffled roar followed his words, and the demon began to pound against the plexiglass.

 


	2. corporate struggles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter by kalesmay, more insight into the world of filthy capitalists

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jason, dick, and bruce: mcdonalds  
> eddie, harvey and waylon: waffle house  
> tiger: whole foods  
> clark: farmers market

"Hey man, can I get a McFlurry?"

Jason _hates_ when people order that. The machine is _always_ broken. They know this. He swears the corporate entities above do it intentionally. Whatever, it's broken. "The machine is broken, is there anything else I can get you?"

The man with the trucker cap scratches his chin thoughtfully. "Apple slices?"

"Buy a happy meal. It comes with apple slices."

 

Trucker Cap Guy makes a face. " _Dude_ , I'm a grown ass man, I can't order that."

Jason sighs. "It comes with a toy skateboard."

"Oh shit, really? Can I get two happy meals and a thing of fries?"'

 

* * *

 

"Hey, Bruce!"

 

Bruce looks up from the cash register and levels Clark Kent, human ray of sunshine, with a flat glare. "We're closed."

"The sign says open," Clark says, half turning towards the open sign that was, in fact, lit.

"The sign," Bruce says, walking over to the switch that turns off the lights, "was _wrong_."

 

They stand in the dimness for a few seconds, because it's 3 in the afternoon and Bruce is wearing a McDonald's apron over a 3 piece Armani suit and if he locks Clark out of his fine dining establishment, he doesn't have to deal with his feelings. This is a fool proof plan, in Bruce's eyes, until Jason comes out to the front and turns the lights back on.

"What the fuck, you losers?" He says, incredulous, and looking bored with the situation instantaneously, goes back to mopping.

"How do you make money if the customer service sucks and you never let anyone inside?" Clark asks, taking off his glasses and cleaning the lenses with the hem of his _Kent Farmers Market_ t-shirt. It's a fair question, and somewhere behind him, Jason snorts.

 

Bruce waves his hand, channeling years of bourgeois living and high class upbringing into the movement. "I don't need money. I'm _Bruce_ _Wayne_." He puts emphasis on his name, says it the way some people might say _God_ or _President_ _Luthor_. Clark blinks at him. Of course, Bruce would wave the status card in the face of some country bumpkin from backwoods nowhere, Kansas, who just moved here to spread the gospel of fresh produce.

Clark puts his glasses back on, carefully, and stuffs his hands deep in the pockets of his worn jeans. He clears his throat, just a little. "...sorry, who?" Even though he knew it was coming, Bruce can feel the tiny fissures appearing across the ego he claims not to have. Jason, who is doubled over his mop, howling with obvious glee, is not helping. Clark Kent, looking bemused and apologetic in the way only farm boys can be, scratches at the back of his head and says, "Was I...  _supposed_ to recognize the name?"

 

Jason's laughs get louder. Bruce's ego cracks down the middle. "No," he says, "no you weren't." And he disappears into the back room, leaving a bewildered Clark alone with Bruce's hyena impersonating second eldest son.

 

* * *

 

"Babe,"

"No."

" _Babe_ ,"

" _No_."

"C'mon, I'm trying to be _romantic_! I visited you at work, brought you lunch, showered you with affection; you should be absolute heart eyes right now!"

 

Tiger raises a dark eyebrow. "First of all, I do not do ' _heart_ _eyes_ '. Secondly, you're harassing me at my place of employment, and you brought me a children's meal from McDonalds. This is not _romantic_."

Dick rifles through the cardboard box and holds out the toy. "Look! It's a crown!" It's a cheap plastic tiara that's missing a couple jewels, but those are minor details. He reaches up on his toes to place it on Tiger's head, who frowns thunderously but doesn't stop shelving cases of organic candies. "My princess," Dick coos, dodging a halfhearted kick from Tiger's heavy combat boots.

 

"I hate you."

 

* * *

 

"Riddle me this!" The employee with the slicked back copper hair smiles grandly at the quartet of teens, draped oddly along the counter rather than standing behind it.

Tim frowns, patting his pockets for his wallet. "I really just want to order, dude." His wallet was in his jacket, which was on Bart; he reaches around Conner and plucked it out. Bart notices belatedly and blinks, but didn't do much but rub the corner of his eye and yawn.

 

The employee ~~\--~~ Eddie, as his name tag identifies him  ~~\--~~ looks put out by Tim's dismissal. "There's no reason as to why you can't do both, but if you don't think you could get it correct, that's your prerogative." Maybe if it wasn't 2:30 in the morning, and he and his friends weren't half asleep and starving, Tim might've risen to the bait. As it were, he just raises a tired eyebrow and pointedly removes a twenty from his wallet. Sliding down from his place atop the counter so he was standing in front of the register, Eddie sighs, a bone deep kind of dejectedness that almost makes Tim feel bad for him. Almost. "What would you like?"

Tim glances back at his friends, who were all in varying stages of asleep standing up. He waves them towards a booth, both Bart and Cassie sitting down, only Conner remaining up at the counter with him. "Um, waffles? As many as twenty bucks will get me, keep the change." If Eddie thought this was a weird order, he didn't comment on it. Actually, Tim was fairly certain there were tears in his eyes as he rung them up, and was confirmed by a wet sniff as Eddie turns around to face the kitchens. Tim looks at Conner, panicky. "He's crying," He hisses, "because I didn't let him tell a riddle."

Conner's eyes widen, and he leans down towards Tim. "What're you gonna do?"

"I don't know! He's crying, Conner. _Crying_."

 

The sniffles turn into genuine tears, if the way Eddie's hands wipe at his face were anything to go by. Tim didn't know what to do: did he let the strange Waffle House employee cry, or did he let him ask a riddle? Tim didn't really want to answer a riddle, but he didn't want his waffles cried into. It was a moot point, anyway.

"Nigma, are you fucking crying again?" A man strolls out of the kitchens, voice gruff and fists balled.

"N-no!" Eddie says quickly, standing up to his full height. Tim and Conner exchange a look. _Again_? Did this happen often?

 

The guy stops in front of Eddie, scowling. "You literally are, you fucking baby. Go take a break if you're gonna act like a little bitch."

As humiliating as it was to cry in front of customers at 3 in the morning, it was apparently crossing the line to be scolded in front of them. Eddie whirls on the man and starts shouting. "I am not crying, Dent! It's _March_ , I have _allergies_ , thank you very much! But even if I was crying, it's preferable to your massive temper tantrums that break equipment and irritate everyone around you!"

Dent snorts. "You think crying because no one will let you play fuckin' Sphinx isn't irritating? News flash, Nigma, no one likes you!"

 

Tim really just wants his waffles. Conner looks infinitely amused, and even Bart and Cassie had woken up to gleefully watch the exchange. This is not how Tim had wanted to spent his time.

Eddie looks outraged. "I've been employee of the month since I started here, Harvey, and you're a jealous bastard because you and your mercurial temper can't keep it in check! At least I'm not making _other_ people cry!"

Harvey closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, his face smoothing out like a switch had been flipped. "I'm not going to get into this with you, Ed. I'll make the order, you take a break and freshen up, okay?" Tim and Conner share an incredibly startled look, but Eddie nods and takes it in stride like it's normal.

"Thank you, Dent. I'll help Jones clean the kitchens. Have a nice night, ~~\--~~ morning? ~~\--~~ children." Eddie saunters off to the back, as jovial as could be, like he hadn't been crying mere minutes ago.

Later, once they've received their order, Tim vows to never set foot in this restaurant again. Bart says he's never eating anywhere else, ever again.


End file.
